Page 52 of Highlander’s Bride

He saw Odhran run past him, a bloody sword in his hand, and Raghnall stopped him.

“Where is your wife?” Raghnall asked. “Where are the women and children?”

“All in the great hall, Lord,” said Odhran, panting. “Safe for now.”

“Good. ’Tis good. Can ye make sure Seoc is there, too? He should be in the main keep. Tell yer wife to keep an eye on him, aye?”

Odhran nodded. “Aye, Lord.”

Raghnall squeezed his shoulder in gratitude and watched him sprint into the main keep. Relieved that Seoc would be taken care of and that the women and children were as safe as possible, Raghnall ran to Angus and supported the warrior from the other side.

“What the hell happened?” Raghnall demanded. “How could they have gotten in so quickly?”

“She’s too clever, brother. She distracted us with Dornie while her ships came from the sea gate, and before we knew it, they sent men from there. They have some sort of new ladders with hooks, and it was as though she knew exactly where they needed to throw them to get in.”

“Ah, goddamn it. How could no one have seen the ships? It’s not like they’re moving fast.”

“They saw them, but she was burning the village down…the church…” Angus’s voice broke. “I dinna ken if Father Nicholas is even alive. He refused to leave the house of God. And I didna think the ships would be a threat at all, we’re so well defended…”

“How many men does she have?” Raghnall asked.

“A thousand at least.” They reached the barracks and went inside. Angus and Raghnall let the warrior lie down on one of the beds, then they turned and left.

“What do we do?” Raghnall said. “If they have those strange ladders, they can use them again for these walls, too.”

Angus stared at the walls with a cold determination as they walked. “What do we do? We fight like hell. I wilna let them harm my wife and my unborn child.”

Raghnall’s blood chilled at the thought of the pregnant Rogene. “Euphemia wilna let her live,” he murmured. “Or ye.”

Angus shook his head once. “I’m nae so sure about that. Death may be my best option if she gets a hold of me. But if it would allow us to stop this…”

Raghnall frowned as they marched towards the walls. “Brother, ye’re nae seriously thinking of surrendering.”

Angus climbed the stone stairs that were built along the inner curtain wall. “Right now, I’m thinking to give her hell,” he threw over his shoulder.

Raghnall followed him, and when they both stood on top of the wall among other archers and warriors, they hid behind the merlons. The inner wall was thicker than the outer one. Here and there, sand was being heated in the cauldrons. Men carried rocks up the stairs, and many were throwing them onto the assailants below.

Thick gray clouds rose from Dornie on the other side of the loch, bringing the scent of smoke and of disaster. A volley of arrows swooshed past overhead, followed by the sounds of iron arrowheads knocking against the rocks, and moans and cries of pain from the wounded in the inner bailey.

Raghnall’s heart sank at the sight of how many enemy warriors were in the outer bailey. Ross archers stood on the outer wall and shot at them.

And then he saw the new ladders. They were rope ladders with iron hooks on the ends… Ross men threw the hooks at their wall. Many times, they didn’t catch. But they were trying again and again. Mackenzie archers worked hard, sending arrow after arrow into the rows of men below, but there were too many of them…someone else was always catching the hooks and throwing them again.

Raghnall took out his own bow and began sending arrows into the enemy. Someone picked up a large bowl of hot sand and poured it down. Agonized yells of pain sounded from below. God, that must hurt as sand filtered through the gaps between the armor and reached their bodies. The scent of singed hair and flesh tickled Raghnall’s nostrils.

After a while, he noticed cries of pain and screams from his left and saw that the enemy had managed to hook the ladders to the wall on the other side of the gate and were climbing up. They were being pushed off, and more hot sand was being poured on top of them. But nothing could stop so many men. Not rocks. Not arrows. Not hot sand.

And then Raghnall’s heart stopped as he saw a lad launch himself at an enemy warrior and stab his small dagger into the man’s ankle.

Seoc!

The warrior yelled in pain and raised his sword, about to strike Raghnall’s son.

The scent of smoke, of singed flesh and hair, plus seeing Seoc in mortal danger, flashed the image of four years ago into Raghnall’s mind. How the farm burned, and the woman he loved took her last breath, and how he swore to protect Seoc and take care of him.

He couldn’t let Seoc get hurt.

He darted, weaving around the fighting warriors, seeing no one and nothing but the boy whose life he had to save.